


Dias de los Muertos

by Rattlesnake_Smile



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anita Blake AU, M/M, Vampire Lydia Martin, Vampire Stiles Stilinski, Witch Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rattlesnake_Smile/pseuds/Rattlesnake_Smile
Summary: Scott is one of the rising stars at the Resurrection Company, California's animation firm.  After refusing a client, he finds himself in a sticky situation that may not end up well for anyone.





	1. Samhain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexenglish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/gifts).



> I've been working on this for over a year... well, I started it a year ago, but it didn't seem right to not post it on Halloween, so I waited, but I forgot about it and just recently (today) finished this first chapter. But I still have twenty minutes to go and hopefully I'll manage to finish the next to installments before the Day of the Dead ends.
> 
> The original idea for this was of a witch!Scott based on Alex English's awesome story, but I couldn't make that work, so I turned to this universe, the Anita Blake universe, and this just works so much better for me. 
> 
> BTDubs, all mistakes are mine. If you see any, please let me know.

Scott McCall sat calmly at his desk, leaning back comfortably in his incredibly expensive leather chair, sipping some chamomile tea from his cup before setting it down on the saucer like a proper person before setting it back on the desk before him. Across from him, a mug of coffee sat untouched, black and steaming. The man that sat before that cup of coffee, who sat across from Scott was... well, scary was the word that came to mind. He wasn't doing anything frightening and he wasn't physically menacing in any way, but the sour expression on his face, like he'd swallowed a lemon, was tinged with a darkness that unnerved him; put him on edge.

Of course, maybe it was the fact that this man had been in the news countless times calling for the extermination of anyone and anything that didn't fit what he classified as human, such as vampires, lycanthropes, and even animators like Scott.

He was a mean one, that Gerard Argent. Openly despised anything and everything preternatural, and he had the money to back up his bigotry. All of this made his visit to The Resurrection Company, the California-based animator firm, all the more interesting.

"Something wrong with the coffee, Mr. Argent?" Scott did his damnedest to be polite, Peter would be pissed otherwise. After all, this man - bigoted asshole aside - had paid a hell of a lot of money just for this consultation with Scott. He and his mother had survived on less when he was growing up. Gerard didn't say anything, just continued to not-scowl in Scott's direction. "I could offer you some tea instead."

"No, thank you." Those three simple words seemed to cause Gerard some amount of pain. Part of Scott was content to sit here and watch him squirm, so to speak, to watch him have to abase himself before one of the very people who he publicly condemned over the years. The other part - the more dominant part - simply wanted this man out of his office and as far away from him as possible. Gerard Argent didn't simply hate the preternatural, and that included people like Scott with their natural psychic gifts, he was fanatical about their subhuman nature and how they should be killed. Yes, the sooner he got this man out of his office, the happier he would be.

"Then maybe would should put aside the pleasantries and - "

"I don't like you." Gerard interrupted him, not raising his voice but cutting through the younger man's words none-the-less.

"I grasped that on my own, believe it or not." Scott could play this game, too. Apparently the 'being polite' phase of this interview was over. "But you didn't like me before you set up this appointment." Scott couldn't help but smirk. "Hell, you didn't like me before that short time I dated your granddaughter." Gerard's expression visibly soured at the mention of Allison, his pale, pointed features blackening with rage. "So why don't we skip the whole thing were you tell me I'm going to burn in hell and just get right to the point. What are you doing here and what do you want?"

"I need you to raise my daughter from the dead." Gerard said abruptly, taking a lot of Scott's hostility with it as the statement caught him by surprise.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Scott said automatically, because that's what you do when you find out that someone had lost a loved one to death. But apparently, Gerard, for all his money and his conservative suits that cost a fortune a piece, was not proper, because he didn't do the proper thing and acknowledge that Scott had offered his condolences on his loss.

"I don't want your pity." Gerard snapped. "I want your over-priced assistance. I need my daughter raised from the dead." Scott frowned, not liking the way Gerard was phrasing that demand. He voiced his discomfort.

"I don't think I can do what you want me to do, Mr. Argent." Despite all of his many, many faults, Gerard Argent had lost his daughter and was grieving. Scott may not have particularly liked the man, but he understood the grief. Lord knows he saw enough of it in this line of work. "All I can do is raise zombies. I'm not Jesus. I can't resurrect anyone."

"Than you should change the name of your company." Gerard retorted.

"I'm not in charge of public relations." Scott fired back.

"Look." Gerard decided to change tactics, loosening his posture and leaning back in his chair, unbottoning his jacket as he did so. "I came to you because you're rumored to be more than just a simple animator. A necromancer." Scott said nothing, not aware that his skill and power of an animator was public knowledge, especially to someone of Gerard's reputation. "You're incredibly powerful and the only one I could ask this of."

"No, I'm the only one that would meet with you." Scott said before scoffing with amusement. "Which I'm sure Peter managed to extract a pretty penny for. Phillipa Freestone is stronger than I am and Anita Blake is stronger than us both. But you knew that Phillipa would never meet you and Anita Blake, if the rumors are true, would be more likely to shoot you than to even talk with you." Scott deduced. "Process of elimination." He smiled. "Plus, I'm a man, which I'm sure is easier on your conscience when it comes to dealing with people like me."

Gerard simply scowled more deeply, his features pinched. As Scott watched, those cold, almost dead eyes (and that was saying something because his job was raising zombies and his best friend was a vampire) lightened slightly, tears welling up in them. Scott felt his big heart bleed, a common occurance with him that his friends thought was a hazard (ie. he was too trusting).

"Please, Mr. McCall, I'll double your fee if you want more money." Gerard tried pleading. If Scott were a different person he would lie and say he could do it. Doubling his fee, which was already enough to send a person to college for a few years, would set him up for quite some time. But, sadly, Scott was a decent person who wouldn't take advantage of another's grief for profit, as much as Peter would love it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Argent." Scott said gently. "But I can only raise zombies. They may be incredilby life-like, but they're just zombies." He did his best to offer his sympathies with just a look. "I can't help you."

"I'll supply the White Goat." Gerard tried.

Those words froze Scott in place, the blood in his veins turning to ice. For a moment he wasn't sure he'd heard that correctly, but as the fog of shock receded from his mind, he realized that he did indeed hear correctly.

"I think it's time for you to leave, Mr. Argent." Scott said, trying to be polite but ending the interview. He didn't care how much money was thrown at him, this conversation was over.

"I'm paying a great deal of money just to speak with you." Gerard snapped. "You will hear me -"

"You can throw all the money you want at me, or sue if you feel so inclined." Scott interrupted him, his voice going very soft and quiet. He wasn't one to get angry or to throw his metaphysical power around, but right now was one of those few times he did. "But this interview is over and it's time you left. Now, you can do so quietly and of your own accord or I can have security escort you out and make a scene. One that I'm sure your conservative friends in Washington would love to see on the news." Gerard himself stood now, and he and Scott stared at each other from across the desk. After a moment of this, Gerard reared back and spat at Scott, who easily stepped back to avoid it, watching as the saliva landed in his tea. The older man then buttoned his jacket and stepped away from the desk.

"Rot in hell, you Devil-worshiping spick." Gerard snarled at him before wrenching open the door and striding from the office.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Argent.?" Scott heard Peter's voice - smooth as whiskey and just as dark.

"Yes. I clearly must have been out of my mind to even come to a place like this, filled with half-breed immigrant witches." Scott reached the door to his office and saw Kira was behind Peter, looking at the Conservative bigot in shock. "What are you looking at, you Oriental whore?" He snapped at her, and Kira, ever shy, blushed in embarrassment and hid behind her boss.

"I think it's time you left, Mr. Argent." Peter said, his voice no longer smooth but even darker.

"And you." Gerard rounded on their business manager - the one who handled the paperwork end of their business. "You're worse then all of them, selling your soul for money."

"Oh, Mr. Argent." Peter said slyly, devious smirk in place as he stepped closer, straightening Gerard's tie and smoothing down his lapels. "I didn't have a soul to sell in the first place." The smirk slid free and Peter was all business. "Now kindly remove yourself from the premises before I have security throw your ass out on the street for everyone to see." Peter was closer to Gerard's height than Scott, so he and the racist asshole stared each other down before Gerard eventually blinked and turned away, spitting on the ground before stalking out of the lobby to their floor and toward the elevator with as much dignity as he could muster.

"What happened?" Peter rounded on Scott, looking pissed, but not at him.

"He wanted me to do something I wasn't willing to do." Scott said.

"Which was?"

"A white goat." Scott said before turning back into his office, leaving Peter and Kira to stare in the direction of the elevator, knowing full well what Scott was talking about.

For those of you that dont' know what the white goat is, it's a euphemism. It means human sacrifice.

* * *

 

**\- SIX WEEKS LATER -**

* * *

 

Isaac tangled his fingers through Scott's thick dark hair, tugging firmly but gently as the young necromancer between his thighs. When he entered the tight circle of muscle that was the entrance to Scott's throat, the young werewolf threw his head back into the pillows, moaning loud and low. Scott looked up from where he was busy at the blond's groin, enjoying the view of Isaac's abs and pecs before coming to the smooth column of his throat, stretched taut as he succumbed to the pleasure Scott was inflicting upon him. Maybe it was all the time he spent with Stiles, but Scott had an undeniable urge to mark that throat up - to sink his teeth in and let everyone know that he'd been there.  
The thought alone brought a smirk to his face. An impressive feat, considering what his mouth was busy occupied with.

The third person in the (larger than) king-sized bed noticed.

"What are you smirking at?" Derek asked, laying on his stomach next to Scott, his handsome face propped up on his crossed forearms. Isaac didn't even look down, so lost he was in Scott's ministrations that he didn't hear Derek's rough voice. Scott, occupied as he was, merely flickered his lust-blown brown eyes from Isaac's bare throat to meet Derek's own green eyes before moving them back. Derek must have gotten the message, because he moved from his comfortable position, raising his nude (and oh, so muscular) body from where he'd been resting, giving Scott a glimpse of the thickness hanging between those powerful thighs.

Involuntarily, the young animator moaned, his lips still wrapped around Isaac, who groaned loudly at the vibrations as they rode up through his body from his most intimate part. Those moans only intensified, for both necromancer and werewolf, when Derek's lips made contact with Isaac's throat, the thick stubble spread across that strong jaw scratching deliciously at the sensitive skin. Scott pulled back a bit, wrapping his hand around the root of Isaac and pumping lazily as he watched Derek work, pulling off to catch his breath and swallow the saliva that had built up since he'd started. He watched that rough jaw and those soft lips - he'd had experience with both - move smoothly across Isaac's throat, the stubble leaving a red path in it's wake, adding color to the pale wolf. Eventually, Derek moved up from Isaac's throat and across his cheek, catching his lips in a heated kiss when the blond turned his head to meet his alpha. Derek's one hand was hidden from Scott's view but the other was gently, almost lovingly, cupping the side of Isaac's neck before slowly making its way down, over broad shoulders before sweeping back around to glide over those pecs, his thumb brushing the pebbled nipple it it's path. Over the abs before curling in Isaac's treasure trail, leading directly to the treasure.

The older, more experienced, wolf ghosted his hand over where Isaac was painfully erect before rising above and joining Isaac's hand in Scott's hair, slowly guiding him back down. Scott took the hint and allowed himself to be led back to the prize. He was a bit surprised when Derek didn't let up on the pressure once Scott reached the same spot he'd stopped at before, but he decided to just roll with it. Relaxing his throat, he allowed himself to be forced all the way down until his lips formed a tight seal around Isaac's base. Once there, he held his breath, relishing in the sense of accomplishment anyone (hell, everyone!) in this position usually felt before he started humming.

The sensation ripped Isaac away from Derek's mouth with a cry of surprise. Scott looked up from his task and saw Isaac staring at him with wide, wild eyes, no longer blue but the golden yellow of his wolf. His control was slipping and Scott wouldn't have had it any other way. The darker-skinned young man eventually had to pull himself off, for no other reason than the fact that he needed to breathe. Once he'd gained enough oxygen, he repeated the process, going all the way down and doing his best to drive Isaac into a pleasurable madness before he needed to come up for air again.

It was on the fourth pass that Scott sense the change. Isaac was harder in his mouth, the muscles in the thighs on either side of his head tensing, the hand digging a little harsher into his scalp.

"I'm gonna go." Isaac panted, doing his best to warn Scott, who simply continued with what he was doing.

"Then go." Derek whispered into the younger lycanthrope's ear, putting a little of his alpha dominence into that command. Isaac allowed himself to fall over that precipce into orgasm, going down Scott's throat in a rush of liquid warmth. While the werewolf was lost in that white haze that usually accompanied orgasm, Scott continued to nurse at him until he grew too sensative and Isaac pushed him off. Scott allowed him too, moving up from Isaac's groin, kissing up his abs and over his chest, over the marks that Derek left before he captured his mouth in a kiss, allowing the lycanthrope to taste himself on Scott's tongue.

So lost were the two in that kiss, the Scott started when he felt a pair of lips on his ass. Pulling away from Isaac, he glanced over his shoulder to see Derek grinning wolfishly at him over the swell of his ass. Derek kept his eyes locked with Scott, still grinning deviously as he lowered his mouth to that most intimate part of Scott's body. The moment lips and tongue landed on target, Scott groaned loudly, allowing his face to land on Isaac's shoulder, panting wetly into the crook of his neck.

The necromancer whined loudly from Derek's assault, both from the skill of that tongue and those lips, as well as from the delicious burn of stubble. There wasn't anything quite like what he was experiencing in that moment. He tried to raise his head to look again, but Isaac stopped him, turning his head back to look him in the eye. Scott noticed his eyes were no longer wolf golden, but back to their normal, and still beautiful, blue, though the blue was a mere band around the lust-blown pupil - like a well of inky desire.

"You took care of me, so let us take care of you." Isaac said to Scott before grinning deviously. "Well, let Derek take care of you. You took care of me too well. Not sure I can move yet." Scott laughed at Isaac's humor before that laugh turned into a choked off grown. Derek was doing this thing down there that was seriously making his eyes water. And then... just like that, he was gone. Scott was just about to look back again when Isaac pulled him into a passionate kiss. A part of Scott should have realized that it was a diversion, but most of him was overwhelmed by everything that was going on. By the time he felt the blunt, thick head of Derek pressing against where his tongue had been mere seconds before, Scott barely had time to pull back from Isaac's kiss.

Scott groaned, very loudly, loud enough to compete with Isaac's earlier symphony as Derek pushed his way inside, slowly but relentlessly, feeling the way Scott's muscles gripped him tightly, pulling a moan of pleasure from the older wolf as well.

"Just relax and enjoy it, Scott." Isaac said, pulling Scott's face toward his and kissing him in between words. "I know exactly how good it feels."

"I do, too." Scott panted into Isaac's mouth, enjoying the pleasurable pain that accompanied Derek's sudden entrance. Between Derek's prep work and Isaac's kisses, Scott was leaning more toward the good side of the pleasure-pain threshold... well, that and the fact that this wasn't the first time he and Derek had fucked. Wasn't even the fiftieth. And it certainly wouldn't be the last; not if Scott had any say in the matter.

But Scott heeded Isaac's advice and simply let Derek wiggle his way in, sliding deeply into him, ad deep as he could go. Once Derek was fully seated, he rested, leaning his body against Scott's, his back against the animator's back, simply cocooning him in muscled warmth as his body adjusted to the intrusion. Isaac helped by continuing to kiss Scott, stroking his hand through the shorter man's hair. After a few minutes, Scott pulled back and turned his head to face Derek more.

"I'm good."

"You're good?" Derek asked, grin on his bearded face as he slowly started to pull out before harshly thrusting back in, driving out a deep moan from the man under him. "You sure?" He couldn't quite keep the teasing out of his voice.

"I'm sure." Scott's voice was raspy with pleasure. He turned his head to the side and gazed back at Derek. "Are you sure you're up to it?" Derek rose to the teasing. A deep, throaty growl - a sound that no human throat should ever have mad - trickled out from between Derek's oh, so human lips, raising the hair on the back of Scott's neck and causing goose-flesh to run across his skin. When Scott gazed higher than those lips, he saw that Derek's eyes had bled from their beautiful green to the icy-cold blue of his wolf.

Letting his wolf take control, that's to say, his more primal instincts, Derek started to thrust in and out of Scott, pulling further out each time before slamming back in with force. Pretty soon, they had reached full on fucking status, with Scott now on his hands and knees, while Derek knelt on the bed behind him, poundin ghimself into the smaller man over and over and over, so hard and forcefully that the bed shook, the headboard striking the wall with each thrust. Next to them on the overly large bed, Isaac's body had recovered and he was stroking himself while watching the carnal scene unfolding before him.

Scott felt himself reaching his climax and allowed his face to fall into the mattress, his hands going under his own body while Derek's strong hands gripped his hips to help adjust to the change in position. Scott's hands travelled his own body, one going down to stroke himself while the other started to play with his nipple, always a sensitive spot on his body. By stimulating both parts of his body, he raced toward his orgasm.

"I'm close." Scott panted into the mattress. "So close."

"Me, too." Derek growled from behind him, sweat gleaming on his heaving muscles, his voice now several octaves lower than it should have been.

"Me, three." Isaac's voice was raspy and nearing it's own fever-pitch, his eyes once again the golden yellow of his wolf.

One, two, three more strokes and Scott was screaming his orgasm into the mattress, his release straining the sheets beneath him. Him going triggered Derek's release, pouring inside the Latino in a scalding wash of fluid, and the orgasm of his alpha brought Isaac again as well. Derek's orgasm, however, didn't stop there. He thrust harshly several more times, his cry of release turning into a long, low howl, his head thrown back. Scott's fingers dug into the sheets, clenching them tightly as he felt Derek grow inside him. A half-glance over his shoulder saw Derek's skin bubbling before fur, black as night, burst forth through the skin. Derek grew larger all over, his limbs lengthening, his chest and shoulders widening and his face becoming a strange, yet beautiful mix of human and wolf.

Next to them, the wash of power flowing off of Derek brought Isaac's change, his body splitting open and pushing forth the golden-haired wolf-man. Both of them, both werewolves, like all lycanthropes, shifted in a wash of clear fluid that soaked everything on the bed, including Scott, but somehow, they emerged dry. One of those metaphysical mysteries science had yet to solve.

Once in his wolf-man form, Derek turned his gaze from the ceiling back to Scott before he started to thrust again, his body recovered after having shifted. Even so, Derek didn't last long. After about five minutes, he again reached his orgasm, howling in victory, buried as deep within the young animator underneath him as he physically could.

Not long after, Derek willed his wolf back inside, shifting again, this time in reverse, back to his human form, but in the same wash of clear, warm liquid.

"Seriously?" Scott said as Derek pulled himself out of him. "You couldn't have waited until after you pulled out to shift back?" He rolled into a sitting position, half-glaring at the werewolf as he wiped some of the quickly-drying fluid from his face.

"Sorry." Derek said with a grin, still panting heavily. "I'm usually more with it than that."

Scott grinned at the compliment, pleased with having distracted the normally stoic Derek Hale. Next to him on the bed, there was the sound of another shift and both looked over to see Isaac once again in his human form, passed out. A lycanthrope he may have been, but not in the same league as Derek, meaning shifting back and forth so rapidly took a lot of energy out of him.

"Help me strip the bed." Derek said, sliding off of the soaked sheets to scoop Isaac up in his arms, allowing Scott to scramble off the mattress and quickly pull off the sheets and pillows, all soaked with that mysterious fluid, and piled them off to the side. A good thing he did, too, otherwise the mattress would have been ruined. Once the sheets were all off, Derek placed Isaac, still asleep, back on the bed, snagging one of the blankets discarded earlier from the floor and wrapping his pack mate in it.

"He alright?" Scott asked, standing there, nude and covered in the dried, flaking goop.

"He just needs to sleep it off." Derek said.

"That's good." Scott answered. "I'm gonna go take a shower."

"You need some help with those hard to reach places?" Derek asked with a teasing grin.

"Sure."

One shower later, after scrubbing away all the thick goop and stopping every once and a while to make-out like a couple of teenagers, Derek and Scott emerged from bathroom, the werewolf totally nude and uncaring while Scott had a towel wrapped around his waist, another drying his hair.

"You sure I can't convince you to stay?" Derek asked.

"I'd love to, but I already have plans with Stiles." Scott responded, pulling on his boxer-briefs before searching the floor for his jeans. When he looked up, he didn't miss the look of distaste on the werewolf's face. "Don't be like that. I know you and Stiles don't like each other, but you're both my friends."

"I know, I know." Derek agreed. "I just don't know how you can stand him."

"Because he's a vampire?" Scott asked with a slightly disappointed look on his face as he pulled on his jeans, quickly and deftly buttoning them and buckling the belt.

"No, because he never shuts up." Derek corrected him, earning a snort of laughter from the young psychic. "How can something so old, move and talk so much. I was under the impression that vampires were the masters of stillness."

"Stiles is a unique creature." Scott agreed, pulling on his shoes. He stood and looked around for his shirt, turning to find Derek already had it in his hand. Scott watched as the experienced werewolf brought it to his nose and inhaled his scent before handing it out to him. He accepted the article of clothing, but Derek refused to let go, using it to pull Scott in for another kiss, something the young animator allowed to happen. This kiss wasn't anything like the ones from before, neither rushed nor intense, simply a meeting of lips, smooth and gentle.

"I don't want you to go." Derek said after they broke apart, his forehead resting against Scott's, his eyes closed.

"I know." Scott answered. "But I'm still going." He extracted his shirt from Derek's grip and pulled it on over his head. "Don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow." He pecked Derek once more on the lips. "Promise." He grabbed his keys from the counter, made sure he had his wallet and turned to watch Derek pad back across the room, taking a moment to admire his glorious backside before the older werewolf crawled into bed with Isaac, the younger lycanthrope wrapping himself around his alpha.

 

* * *

 

Scott moaned, not from pain, but not necessarily from pleasure either. He clung to the lithe form of his friend Stiles, who currently had his mouth sealed around the puncture marks in his neck, puncture marks he had made with his fangs. Scott ran his hands up Stiles' broad back, slipping under his t-shirt to feel the cold skin warming under his touch, warming because his blood was now pumping through the vampire's body.

Having your blood sucked was a strangely erotic experience, yet at the same time, not so. It was a whole lot different than getting your dick sucked, but the end result was pretty much the same: essential, life-giving fluid leaving the body into the mouth of another. It's just, most men don't like teeth on their manly bits, but there were the weirdos.  
Scott was not one of those weirdos.

"Okay, Stiles." Scott said, patting his friend on the back to get his attention. "I think you've had enough." Truth be told, he was starting to get a little light-headed. Stiles pulled back, licking delicately at the wound before taking a step back. Scott took in the vampire that was old enough to be his great-grandfather, but didn't look a day over eighteen, with the always messy black hair and the boyish face and the amber colored eyes. Speaking of those amber eyes, they moved immediately to the wound on Scott's neck before taking in Scott's complexion.

"You let me take too much." Stiles huffed, already moving through the first aid kit he had nearby, moving back to Scott with a square of gauze and some medical tape. Quickly and efficiently, Stiles bandaged the wound, which had already stopped bleeding. Once he was done, he stepped back and took in Scott's appearance.

"You sure you're still good to go hang for a little?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Scott waved off his concern.

"Okay." Stiles took him at his word. "So where's your costume?"

"About that..."

"You can't not have a costume!" Stiles exclaimed. "It's Halloween!"

"Maybe we can just paint an S on my chest and I can go as Superboy or something?" Scott suggested.

"No, screw that." Stiles had already turned back toward his first aid kit. He emerged holding several other rolls of gauze. "I've got an idea."

"Am I gonna like this idea?" Scott asked hesitantly.

"Probably not." Stiles grinned enthusiastically. "Take off your shirt."

 

* * *

 

"I itch." Scott complained as he and Stiles mingled with the crowds in downtown San Fransisco. Stiles had gone crazy with the gauze, taking Scott's shirt off and and wrapping the animator up in a manner that showed off his hard-earned muscles, and plenty of skin, but still managed to give the impression of a mummy... a sexy mummy.

"Well, that's what you get for not having a proper costume." Stiles barely even spared him a pitying glance, moving easily through the crowd with a swish of his impressive cape.  
"Why are you Batman, anyway?" Scott asked, glancing at his friend in full cape and cowl, his amber eyes floating like glowing torches in the darkness of his cowled face.

"Because Batman's a classic."

"But not ironic?" Scott asked with a grin. Stiles stopped and turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?" He really was confused.

"Batman." Scott said simply. "Bats. Do you really not see the connection?" Stiles shook his head. "Vampires and bats." Realization dawned on Stiles' face.

"Oh..." He paused. "No, never thought about that." After that, he turned back toward the crowd and continued moving forward, not giving his costume any other thought.

The two friends chit-chatted as they went through downtown San Francisco, stopping and dancing and chatting with the other people out on the street, partying, slowly making their way up the hills the city was famous for. They eventually found themselves in a conversation with a fellow vampire and her Human Servent. And that was the thing that Scott liked about Lydia, she wasn't like most Master Vampires. She talked to Scott like he was just as important as any other person in her city.

Oh, yeah, did we forget to mention that Lydia was the Master-of-the-City of San Francisco. She was known throughout the country as The Morrigan, a powerful Master Vampire who controlled a nice chunk of the West Coast, her Kiss being incredibly strong and stable, something unusual in the current preternatural climate of the country. Scott was pretty sure the key to her success was her large brain and the fact that she didn't outright declare herself as the Master-of-the-City. She, like a few of the old ones, used a stalking horse, a faux leader of the community to take the heat and focus off of her. Granted, Victoria was a hell of a lot scarier in appearance, almost like a living dragon, but less scaly.

At least, she scared Scott.

Stiles, too.

But, as fair and nice as Lydia was, her Human Servant was... not.

Jackson Whittemore was physically perfect, all model-perfect face and blue eyes with a honed physique and name-brand clothes. His personality, however, left a lot to be desired. For all Scott knew, when he was alone with Lydia, he may have been completely different, but whenever he was out in public, he was a total dick. Snobby attitude, looking down his nose at others, especially Scott.

For his part, Scott tried to not let it get to him. He didn't know why Jackson was so hostile toward him and did his best to ignore him whenever they were forced to interact.  
"Stiles, when are you going to make Scott here your Human Servent?" Lydia asked in an almost casual manner, a remark that earned a dark scowl from Jackson. Next to him, Stiles made several sounds that probably should have belonged on a children's television show rather than coming from his mouth.

"Well, we're not that.... that's not to say that we wouldn't be... but..." Stiles stuttered over his words.

"As awesome as it would be to be Stiles' best friend forever," Scott saved his friend. "Stiles has his eyes set on Malia." He tossed a grin his friend's way, who, had he'd been human, would have blushed furiously.

"That werewolf girl?" Lydia asked. At her back, Jackson sneered.

"Yeah." Stiles answered.

"Good for you." The Master-of-the-City said after a moment, though Scott was almost entirely sure she was processing this information and how it would effect her future plans. The ultimate planner, that Lydia was. Before the conversation could go any further, someone called out Scott's name. All four looked over to see a young man approaching, moving through the crowd like an Olympic swimmer through the water. The parting of the people between them probably had something to do with this young man's costume, which included a pair of gold lamé short-shorts, golden high-tops and a gold and black snap-back turned backward on his head. His naturally golden-tanned skin and the gold glitter that decorated his shoulders, pecs and back made him look like some heavenly vision.

A hot, sexy, heavenly vision.

Scott couldn't help the smile that crossed his face when he saw Theo moving toward him dressed as a go-go boy. He had only known the werewolf for a few months, but Scott was attached. Every time the two got together, they had a great time... not to mention great sex.

Next to him, Stiles huffed noisily. Scott was starting to see what Derek was talking about when it came to Stiles.

"What?" Scott asked, turning to look at his friend.

"It's just... I don't like him." Stiles admitted, a scowl on his face as he watched the werewolf approach.

"Why?" Behind them, Lydia and Jackson were watching the exchange, one with a keen eye, the other with an air of extreme boredom.

"I can't get inside his head." Stiles finally admitted in almost a whisper.

"But aren't wolves your animal-to-call?" Jackson asked tauntingly.

"Yes." Stiles mumbled. "Which is why he bugs me. I can get to every werewolf in this territory, even Satomi, but not him. And there's no way he's on Satomi's level. Hell, Isaac could probably take him and you know how much I don't like him."

"Hey, Scott." Theo had finally reached the quartet, leaning in to kiss Scott on the cheek before pulling back and turning his gaze onto the three others, smile on his face and his face flushed. Clearly he'd been partying hard. "Stiles."

Stiles merely glared and grunted in response. Lydia, however, stepped forward, hand outstretched.

"Lydia."

"Theo." The werewolf accepted her hand, leaning down to brush his lips across her knuckles. Jackson glared. "Pleasure."

"Any friend of Scott's is a friend of mine." Lydia commented. The conversation probably would have continued but, alas, it wasn't meant to be. "As much as I'd love to talk some more, Stiles and I do have something else to attend to." Without waiting for a reply from either Stiles or Jackson, she linked her arms with theirs and led them off, up the street.

"Odd." Theo commented.

"Not really." Scott responded. "The vampires go all out and do this sort of flying parade type thing."

"Really?" Theo asked, getting a nod in response. "Sounds cool. We sticking around to watch it?"

"Yeah," Scott answered, slinging his mostly bare arm over Theo's broad shoulders. Theo's arm wound its way around Scott's waist and the two set off to get something to eat as they waited.

"So why aren't you working tonight?" Theo eventually asked as the two meandered through the crowds, munching on soft pretzels. At Scott's confused look, Theo explained. "I mean, a lot of people must want a zombie raised on Halloween."

"Mmm." Scott said before swallowing his mouthful of food. "Yeah. I get a lot of people wanting me to raise a zombie for a party or something along those lines, but I always say no."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Scott admitted. "Peter would love if I accepted it, because I bring in a lot of money regularly. But I never work on Halloween or the two days after."  
"Why?" Theo seemed generally interested.

"Dias de los Muertos." Scott answered, tearing off another piece of the pretzel. "The days of the dead, when the veil between this world and the next is at it's thinnest. It's a time to honor our ancestors and those that came before us, not to flaunt our power and raise the dead for tricks." He grinned charmingly. "There are those that still work on these days, but I'm not one of them." In fact, tomorrow afternoon I'm heading back to LA to spend the holiday with my family."

"Oh, well now I feel bad." Theo said.

"Why?"

"Because you're not going to make it to your family." Scott frowned, turning to look at his friend and fuck-buddy, only to see Theo's fist swinging at his face. Scott felt the impact, but never the pain, because he was out cold before he even hit the ground.


	2. Feast of All Saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott discovers what he's been kidnapped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I forgot to put in the first chapter's notes, the only part of the Teen Wolf Universe I'm using here is the characters. Everything else is from the Anita Black universe. If you have any questions regarding terminology or the universe this is set in, feel free to ask me, or you could visit the Anita Blake wiki, which is pretty good regarding information.
> 
> Also, please review. And when I say review, I mean tell me what you liked or didn't like about it, don't just say you loved it. As much as I love that, I want to know what exactly people liked about my stuff and what they didn't, so that I can improve myself.

Scott groaned as he awoke. The first thing that crossed his mind was that he must have partied to hard the night before, especially to be waking up on a strange couch, because this couch was definitely not the lumpy thing he had in his apartment. The next thing he realized was how much his face hurt when he went to go and yawn. And finally, the events of the previous night caught up with him. His eyes snapped open and he found himself lying on a couch large enough to seat ten comfortably, beneath a domed glass ceiling in what he assumed was some opulent mansion.

He sat up with a groan, his one hand going to the side of his face where he'd been cold-cocked the night before.

"You're awake." Scott turned his head to look across the couch, shaped like a big U to see Theo lounging comfortably opposite him, that cocky smirk he'd always found so charming in place. Now, of course, it made him angry, and upset. He thought he and Theo were friends.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head, Scott." Theo commented. "And for the record, it's nothing personal."

"Really?" Scott snapped, sounding even to himself like Stiles. "Because it sure as hell felt personal."

"I was just doing what I was told." Theo responded. "Orders, y'know?"

"Whose orders?"

"Mine." Both young men turned to watch an older man, and by older we mean in his late thirties or early forties, walk into the room, his way preceded by a walking stick. He was blind.

"You're Deucalion." Scott stated. The blind man's lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smile.

"You've heard of me?"

"I've heard of the blind Ulfric and his pack of mercenaries, yeah." Scott admitted. Trailing behind the blind alpha was two more werewolves, twins, shadowing him, clearly the mobile pack's Hati and Sköll, their Ulfric's (wolf-king) primary bodyguards. The two couldn't have been any older than Scott himself, but moved with that same casual grace that most lycanthropes do, like they had muscles in places normal humans didn't. And these two moved as one organism, like they were both half of one whole, moving totally in sync to protect their Ulfric, keeping their eye on the danger; in this case, Scott.

"Forgive them." Deucalion said, noticing that Scott was distracted by the twins. Pretty perceptive for a blind man. "They're not overly fond of witches."

"How come?" Scott couldn't help his curiosity.

"Bad past experience." Deucalion smirked, his eyes still hidden behind his Aviators.

"Can't imagine why." Stiles would be so proud of the sarcasm. Deucalion apparently appreciated it as well, given the smirk that decorated his face. On the opposite side of the couch, Theo chuckled in appreciation. On either side of Deucalion, the twins growled, but their animosity seemed to be directed more toward Theo than Scott. Apparently Stiles wasn't the only one with a problem toward the cocky werewolf. Given what had happened between the two, Scott was having serious reservations, as well.

"I do apologize for the bruising." Deucalion said, moving forward again, his cane tapping out his path for him.

"You're not the one who needs to apologize." Scott said, turning to glare at Theo, who admittedly, looked the tiniest bit sheepish.

"Yes, Theo is a bit overzealous when it comes to carrying out orders." Deucalion took a seat next to Theo, but instead of lounging like the younger werewolf, he sat perfectly straight and proper, as cultivated as the accent that slid smoothly off his tongue. The twins took up flanking positions directly behind their Ulfric's seat on the couch, arms crossed over impressive chests, looking every bit the part of bodyguards, even if they were younger than usual. "But he is so very eager to please."

"I know." Scott couldn't stop himself, recalling all the times he and Theo had spent together tangled in the sheets, remembering how attentive Theo was. Sitting next to his Ulfric, Theo preened, even if he tried to hide it, leaning more into his alpha's warmth, but just short of touching him.

"Is this your entire pack?"

"No, of course not." Deucalion admitted. "They're out procuring the supplies you'll need."

"What supplies?"

"The ones to help you raise the dead." A voice said. Everyone but Deucalion turned toward the entrance to see Gerard Argent walk into the room, a smug grin on his face. "You should have simply accepted my offer."

"As I've already told you, Mr. Argent," Scott managed to say through gritted teeth. "I cannot do what you want me to do. I'm not Jesus of Nazareth. Resurrection isn't in my repertoire. It's not in anyone's."

"You will do this, Mr. McCall!" Gerard lost his composure very quickly. "I've paid the obscene amount of money your firm required to Deucalion and his people to ensure that you go through with it. There won't be any backing out, this time." He turned to Deucalion, smoothing himself back into the respectable racist that he was on television. "Your man Ennis just arrived with the girl for the sacrifice." His sinister grin rolled back to Scott. "A innocent little thing. That's what you devil worshipers like, isn't it?"

"I don't worship the Devil." Scott stated simply, his brown eyes going cold, a hard feat.

"All of your kind worship the Devil." Gerard spat.

"You can spit any slur you want at me, threaten to kill and torture me all you want, but there isn't anything you can do to make me kill an innocent girl." Scott planted his flag and refused to budge.

"Oh, of course you will." Rather than get upset, as was his habit up until this point, Gerard got eerily cheerful. He reached within his jacket and pulled out a cellphone. He quickly opened it and went through the files within, stopping when he reached whatever it was he wanted. Evil grin still in place, he walked forward and handed the phone to Scott, who looked down and saw a picture of Isaac on the phone. The picture was taken at a distance, and discreetly, because it didn't look like Isaac knew his picture was being taken. When Scott swiped to look at the next picture, his heart stuttered in his chest. It was another picture of Isaac, but the picture this time was taken down the barrel of a sniper rifle. He swiped again and saw a similar picture, this time with Derek. Then Kira. That was Stiles' apartment building. Malia. Liam. When Scott looked up, Gerard was grinning like a maniac.

"You're a sick son-of-a-bitch."

"I knew you'd see things my way." He sneered. "Wouldn't want to see your devil-spawn friends die, now would you?"

"If we could put aside your fanatical hatred of the preternatural for a moment, there is a matter for us to discuss." Deucalion interrupted. Gerard's cold eyes swiveled toward the werewolf.

"And what would that be?" Behind and to either side of Deucalion, the twins bristled at the threatening tone Gerard took.

"Payment."

"I'm paying your and your pack a fortune." Gerard spat.

"Yes, well we haven't received all of the money we're due." Deucalion calmly countered.

"You'll get paid the rest of what you're owed the moment he," He pointed a finger in Scott's direction, "does what he's supposed to, and not a moment before."

"Given your natural predisposition to me and my kind," Deucalion started, standing up with the twins moving to flank him. "What assurances do I have that we'll receive our payment and not a bullet to the head?"

"You have my word." It looked and sounded like it caused Gerard actual pain to say that to a werewolf, a member of a species he'd been lobbying to have declared illegal for the past twenty years.

"I'm afraid I'll need something a bit more substantial." Deucalion insisted.

While the two of them argued over the financial matters, Theo approached Scott, almost hesitantly. Scott looked up from the pictures of his friends and loved ones at the guy he'd been growing steadily closer to for the past three months, only to find out that the whole thing had been an act.

"May I sit?" Theo asked, indicating the cushion next to Scott, who simply turned his head away. Tricking him he could probably forgive. Scott would admit that he could be fairly naive at times when it came to others, always choosing to believe the best, but the moment anyone threatened his loved ones, they had crossed a line. Theo had crossed a line.

Theo sat down. "I just want you to know that we didn't have anything to do with this." He waved his hand toward the phone still clutched in Scott's hand. "We were just told to collect you. This was news to us, too."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?" Scott couldn't keep the scorn out of his voice.

"That's fair." Theo agreed. "I deserved that. But I just want to let you know that the last three months weren't just an act. I actually do like you."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"Scott, you're close with the Bay Pack," Theo admonished. "You know what happens when a wolf disobeys their Ulfric. And he is my Ulfric. My family. He took me in when I was nothing." No, he would not be moved by another sob story. "So, I'm sorry, but I did what I had to. I know we won't be friends after this but I just wanted to let you know that it wasn't all an act." Scott's big brown eyes softened. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it.

"It's okay." He eventually whispered.

"No, it's not okay." Theo corrected him, leaning in closer.

"No, it's not, but apparently that's my character flaw." Scott responded. "I forgive." He leaned in forward, as well. "I probably shouldn't, but I do." He reached out, his hand on Theo's waist. He hesitated almost immediately, feeling the handle of what he was sure was some kind of knife at the small of the werewolf's back. Theo looked embarrassed for a split second before leaning in closer.

"I'm sorry, but I wasn't coming to this racist's house without something else to back me up." Theo said in a conspiratorial whisper.  
"I don't blame you." Scott whispered back.

"So, look.... when," Theo paused. "If we get out of this, maybe me and you could start over."

Scott waited a minute before answering, weighing his words in his head. "I'll think about it." He finally said. "As much as I hate to admit it, I like you, too."

"Yeah?" Theo's entire demeanor lightened, a smile threatening to break out on his handsome face.

"Yeah." Scott whispered, leaning in closer and closing that distance with a kiss. The werewolf melted into the kiss and Scott took the opportunity to grab the knife in Theo's belt. He quickly withdrew it and pulled back, surprising Theo, even more so when he smashed the cellphone into the side of his head. Knife firmly in his right hand, he brought it around and slashed across Theo's face, the werewolf falling to the side with a shout as blood flew in an arc, staining the nice white couch.

Scott was already moving, leaping over the back of the couch while the twins moved in front of Deucalion protectively, thinking immediately of an attack. The animator sprinted across the marble floor, Gerard's shouts of fury following him as he dashed for the door that he prayed led to a way out. But Lady Luck clearly wasn't on Scott's side today, as when he wrenched open the door, there was another werewolf on the other side, this one massive and muscular. He probably would have had a hard time fitting through the door with a shoulder spread like that.  Without stopping to think about it, Scott plunged the knife into the tall, muscular man, the blade slicing deeply into his chest.  Just to make sure he injured something, knowing how fast lycanthropes healed, he twisted the blade.  But before he managed to pull the blade out, the man howled in pain and slugged Scott, his arm over twice the size of Theo's.

The last thought Scott had as he crashed the floor, the darkness closing in, was, 'Not again.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review.


End file.
